Dalamar mentally and magically prepares himself for the meeting with his Shalafi. He runs a hand along his sleeves, rehearsing spells of protection that would keep him safe in Raistlin's presence, reciting the spells that will hopefully prevent the mage from piercing his mind. As always, fear mixed in with anticipation at the thought of meeting the powerful archmage.

He hovers over the handle. Then, steeling his nerves, he enters.

"Shalafi. You called me?"

Ever the charming apprentice, he bows, hands hidden by the sleeves of his black robes. He smiles, but otherwise, his expression is cool. Relaxed. Composed. Revealing nothing.

"I hear you are pursuing some new magnanimous plans. If you will, may I be privy to your schemes?"

Maybe I'll get something interesting to report to the Conclave, Dalamar thinks. He makes sure to conceal this thought amidst a myriad of others. One could never be too careful.